


How Much Did I Know?

by msmarvel1 (quietprofanity)



Series: Lust in Love and Vengeance Trilogy [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, The Author Wrote This as a Sixteen Year Old Virgin I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietprofanity/pseuds/msmarvel1
Summary: After falling in love with Harry Osborn, Peter Parker reminisces and comes to terms with being sexually abused years earlier ...





	How Much Did I Know?

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a "rape as actual rape" fanfic that I wrote when I was around 16-years-old (I'm almost 33 now) and ... without derailing this too much or getting too personal, I did write this at the time as a survivor coping tactic. It's based on a Spider-Man social comic that Marvel released with the NCPCA which describes how Peter Parker was abused by an older boy when he was younger (12 in this fanfic). The comic isn't canon and I don't think it's still very well-known, but it did become something of a "WTF?" meme around 10 years ago so sometimes people would remember this fanfic and look for it. I don't know if they still do but ... here it is.
> 
> If you haven't read the comic, I actually will say I think the comic has a lot to recommend about it for all its preachiness. For me it was the first time sexual abuse was framed as something that could be done to you by a "friend" and not a nefarious adult. It allowed me to contextualize my abuse for what it was and it started me on my path to healing. This fanfic was a particularly messy, dark step in my journey. In the ongoing debate over what's appropriate for fanfiction, I just want to say that I will always appreciate having this outlet to explore some of the darker feelings in a time when I had virtually no institutional or emotional support.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.

~*~*~

Six years ago I was bitten by a radioactive spider and given its powers. You’d think after that I’d be prepared for anything.

Not this.

I never thought this would happen. I didn’t think there would be a morning where I would wake up next to a man, much less my best friend. And if I ever did, I never thought I would have been happy about it.

But I am happy! God, last night was great. We both hadn’t had any sex in a month and… heh… to say we were excited would be an understatement. Harry joked that he’d be too tired to move tomorrow, but it was worth it. I definitely agree (about it being worth it, of course. He’s just being a whiner about the moving thing).

He’s still asleep. I move over towards him and kiss his lips. I love him so much. I know this relationship won’t be easy; in fact, I’m dreading how I’ll break the news to Aunt May. I also don’t know how I’ll handle it if Harry starts taking drugs again. But no matter what, we’re going to try to make this work.

I lay back on our pullout couch (which became tonight’s bed) and reflect, not for the first time, on a day nine years ago, much like today. I was on a couch next to the person I considered my best friend. However, instead of feeling elated and loved, I felt horror. Fear.

Shame.

Most days I don’t even think about what happen. Other days, like this one, I remember it all too well.

~*~*~

I was twelve years old when it happened.

Twelve years. How much did I know? How much did I think I knew?

I know it was around the time when I started to realize just what "it" was (Oh, god forbid we say the word "sex"). Uncle Ben and I fumbled through "the talk" a couple of times and I’d come across a few clinical explanations in my science books. Still, I don’t think I fully realized what "it" all meant until that year. Before then, my hormones hadn’t kicked in and I thought it was just something people did every once in awhile to have kids and otherwise just left the whole matter alone.

Heh. I couldn’t have been more wrong, huh?

The whole 7th grade class was also coming into it at the time and (in my opinion at least) it made everyone completely obnoxious. The girls named their growing breasts while the guys bragged about how many girls they had "done it" with. Looking back, I know they were lying, but I believed them at the time. And it embarrassed me because, as many of those boasters constantly reminded me, I had no girlfriend and had never even kissed anyone outside my family, much less "scored."

Did I like any girls? Oh, sure. I had quite a few little crushes; most of which fizzled out when Flash or one of his friends found out and told the girl. Her laughing at me pretty much killed any feelings I had for her. I did dream though, and more than once those dreams led to… ahem, embarrassing fantasies.

During the day I felt guilty about it. However, when I was actually doing it, any guilty feeling I had about what I did for the most part faded away. One time however, I felt… well, not really guilty, but certainly confused.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben were going out to dinner with friends that night, leaving me alone with a bowl of popcorn, enough soda to launch a small boat, and, best of all, a large pile of sci-fi/horror flicks.

I had a huge smile on my face as I popped in the first video. Looking back, the movie was rather cliché, but I enjoyed every minute of it: the breathtaking space fights, the snarling aliens, the corny special effects. But while all of those things were great, they weren’t what impressed me the most.

It was the hero.

Considering what happened to me later in life, I guess it’s ironic that I admired heroes when I was younger. Courageous, strong and powerful, they were everything I wasn’t and everything I wanted to be.

This man was all of that, but he was also incredibly handsome. His unruly dirty-blonde hair seemed to shimmer in the sun. His deep brown eyes were so bright they could light up a room. And man, his arms! His sculpted, muscular arms could lift or break through anything.

I didn’t know what happened to me. I squirmed on the floor as I felt the familiar hardness growing in my pants. Alone in the room, I tended to my "burden" quickly, pounding on my throbbing sex for several minutes until I came.

A feeling of shock came over me when I realized what I had done. Did I really fantasize about a man? What was wrong with me? Was I gay? No, I liked girls. I couldn’t be!

I tried to rationalize what I had done. I told myself I was identifying with the hero, that my affections were only envy. I guess it was a lame excuse, but it worked at the time.  
The incident was nearly forgotten until a week later, when I heard one girl call her friend a "bisexual." When I looked up the definition in my dictionary (god, was I really THAT geeky?), I was surprised how much it sounded like me. I turned over the idea in my head for awhile, but never had the chance to fully consider it.

Because that’s when he came into my life.

~*~*~

Steven "Skip" Westcott.

I had no idea about who he really was, or what he would mean to me, when I first met him. Heck, our first meeting could have been ripped right from any story.

We met on a Friday. I was in the library reading a book about Einstein when a tall, white-haired boy wearing a red jacket walked over to me.

"Excuse me," he asked. "Is this seat taken?"

I shook myself awake when I realized someone was actually talking to me. "Um… no."

The boy smiled as he sat down. "Say, haven’t I seen you around here before? You’re the kid whose nose is always buried in a textbook." He extended his hand to me. "I’m Steven Westcott, but you can call me Skip."

"Um…," I took his hand. "Hi, Skip."

He walked me home from the library, despite my insistence that he didn’t have to ("But I want to.") and gave me the nickname "Einstein" (after the book I was reading). Soon after that, we became good friends. In the time when I first knew him, I couldn’t have been happier. Other than my aunt and uncle, I’d never had any friends, so it was really great to have Skip around.

In the next couple of days we did everything together. We went to the park, the movies, the museum (mostly at my insistence. He pretty much hated it)… everywhere! But mostly we just hung out together, talking for hours about life and just spending time with one another.

Skip wasn’t a fan of science, but he loved sci-fi and comics. I still remember the day he brought me to a comic convention. It was the most fun I ever had in my life up to that point. 

I was looking at some old Captain America comics when I realized Skip was no longer with me. Nervous, I looked around the congested room and sighed with relief when I saw Skip talking to a pretty blonde girl. I only watched them for a minute when the girl said something and walked away.

"Who was she?" I asked when Skip walked back to me.

"Her? Oh, nobody. I was just talking to her. It’s not often you see girls around here. So it’s nice to see that," Skip paused for a moment. "Hey, Einstein. What about you?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Ever think about a girlfriend?"

"Well, think, yes…" I smiled and pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose. "But it hasn’t really come to anything."

Skip laughed. "You’re pretty funny, Einstein. I’m surprised you don’t have more friends."

I didn’t think what I said was that funny, but I appreciated the compliment, anyway. "You really think so?" I asked.

"Sure. You’re a pretty nice guy, Einstein. Give yourself a year or two. I’m sure you’ll probably get a girl just as hot as her, if not hotter."

"Me?" I shook my head. "No way."

"Why not?" Skip clamped his hand on my shoulder. "You’d be surprised how many chicks dig smart guys."

"Nah…"

"Oh, sure they do. You may feel like a loser now, but you just have to come out of your shell. Trust me, you’ll meet someone sooner than you think."

~*~*~

A couple Saturdays after, Skip invited me over his house to play pool. His mother was away at work, so we had the house to ourselves.

I’d never played pool before, and I was really bad at it. But despite that, I did have fun. Pool takes skill, but it’s kind of like a board game. You don’t need much training or practice to be good at it.

"You know what?" I said as I aimed for another (failed) shot. "This game reminds me of our solar system. The cue ball represents the sun, the other balls are planets, and…"  
Skip sighed in irritation. "Do you ever stop thinking, Einstein? Hey, I’ve got something to show you that’s guaranteed to take your mind off science."

"What’s that?"

Skip just smiled and directed me to his bedroom. I followed in confusion as he walked to his closet, and pulled down a magazine from the top shelf.

"Take a look at this. I swipe these from my uncle’s house all the time."

I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose as I took the magazine. A jolt of shock ran through my body as I read the title.

"‘Girlie’ magazine? But that’s a…"

"Just look through it, Einstein."

I have no idea why, but I did. Looking back, everything in the book was pretty standard, but at the time I’d never seen anything like it. I guess considering what I’d been up to earlier, some might think I would have easily jumped at the chance to see something like "Girlie" magazine. The truth is, despite the fact that I was discovering sex, there was still a lot I didn’t know and wasn’t prepared for.

That magazine was one of them.

A wide leer grew on Skip’s face as he reached for some more magazines. "Bet you’ve never seen pictures like those in a stuffy text book."

"Uh, no…." A gnawing feeling grew in my stomach. "I… I need to use the bathroom."

With that, I ran from the room, slamming the door behind me and nearly tripping over the carpet. I rushed into the living room and sat hard on the couch, so sick that I felt like vomiting.

The sound of approaching footfall, though quiet, seemed to pound in my ears and heart as Skip walked into the living room.

"Hey, Einstein. What’s the matter?"

I shook my head so quickly my glasses nearly fell off. "N-Nothing."

"Really?" Skip asked as he sat beside me on the bed. "You look kind of weirded out. Why? Haven’t you ever heard of that stuff before?"

"I-I have, but-"

"Please. You have to have liked that a little. Maybe you even wanted to do that to someone. One of the girls in your class, maybe?"

I practically choked on my breath as the blood drained from my face.

"You have, haven’t you?" Skip edged closer to me. "You’ve probably even touched yourself." His hand clamped on my thigh. "Around here, maybe?"

"Stop!" I pushed his hand off me. "Don’t do that."

"What’s the big deal? Come on, Einstein. Let’s conduct a little experiment of our own. Let’s see if we can touch each other like the people in that magazine."

My palms were sweating as I edged further away from him. "Please, Skip. Don’t! I have to go now."

"Not for another two hours, you don’t."

Skip grabbed my legs and yanked on them, pulling me so that I was laying down on the couch. Then he straddled me. I gasped as I felt his hard sex against my groin.

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s only me. I’m your friend, remember? And friends do things for other friends. So come on, do this for me."

Violent shudders overtook my body. I could barely think. "I… I don’t know."

"It’ll be fun, trust me. Now come on. It’s really just a game when you think about it. Live a little, kid. You’re gonna have to do this sometime in your life, so you might as well learn now."

I turned my head away as Skip began to stroke my cheek. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to scream for him to stop, to leave me alone.

But I knew, or at least thought, he wouldn’t stop. I knew even if I said no he’d insist. And I knew he’d be mad at me even if I won through and he did stop. What could I do? Skip was my best friend. Everything about this felt wrong, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe, if I stuck through it I could keep my only friend.

"So what is it, Einstein? Yes or no?"

I shut my eyes and gulped. "I… I guess."

It wasn’t a yes, but it was good enough for him. Skip took off my glasses and turned off the light.

~*~*~

He’s on top of me now. I feel the heat of his breath on my face, the weight of him on my groin, the touch of his hands as they move over my body.

(Please. Just let this be over with…)

His hands move downward now. I feel them on my rear. I wince as he squeezes me.

"Nice…" Skip whispers. "Very nice."

(Don’t say that.)

"Yeah, nice ass you’ve got here, Einstein."

(Shut up!)

"Let’s see what else you’ve got."

They’re moving deadly close to my groin. A horror-filled gasp escapes my mouth as I feel myself harden.

Skip just laughs at this. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying.

"Liking this, huh?"

(No!)

"Ah, yeah…"

(I hate this. I hate this. Stop it. Stop it!)

I feel him undo my belt, then my pants. His hands feel like predators as they reach into my underwear. His fingers wrap around my penis.

(No!)

I push his hands away and scrunch into a ball.

"Hey, what gives?"

My voice trembles with fear. "I… I can’t. Please, can we stop?"

"Stop? Einstein, you’re enjoying this."

I shake my head and look at him. "No. No I’m not. I… don’t like-"

"You do. You wouldn’t have gotten a hard-on if you didn’t, Einstein. You want this. You may not think so, but you really do."

"But-"

"C’mon. Go with it. People fuck all the time."

"B-But it’s only my first time. I don’t want to do too much-"

"On your first time, you should do a lot, so you’ll get used to it."

He leans in closer to kiss me. I turn my face away.

"I’m getting annoyed with you, Einstein."

I shut my eyes and press my lips together inside my mouth so they don’t touch his. He may be annoyed, but I can’t tell. His hand brushes against my thigh and back to my groin again. His laughter rings in my ears as he beats me.

(Please, stop.)

Again and again. Up and down.

(Ignore it… think of something else…)

My breathing accelerates. I have to use all my strength to not cry out.

(Maybe he’ll get bored… maybe he’ll stop soon… maybe… maybe…)

(I can’t take this! I can’t. I hate this! I hate it! I hate his touch. I hate his smell.)

(I hate what he’s saying to me. I hate his stupid "compliments." I don’t want to hear them. Not from him. Not now.)

(God, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be a part of this. I’m scared. I feel helpless. Please let him stop. Please. Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.)

My body is betraying me now. I’m almost about to come.

(No! No, I don’t want to give him anything.)

I have a death-grip on the couch’s mattress. My teeth grind together. My face twists as I finally ejaculate.

Skip kisses me on the cheek. "There. That was good, wasn’t it?"

I whimper softly. Not for the first time, I feel the threat of tears under my eyes.

(Ignore him. Just ignore him. At least it’s over.)

My hands finally let go of the mattress. I turn over and make my move to leave, but Skip yanks me back by my shirt.

"Hey, where are you going?"

I feel my heart skip a beat. "I-I have to get the stains out of my clothes."

"Don’t bother. We’re not done yet."

"No!" My eyes widen in horror. "No. No more. We did the experiment-"

"I told you already. You need to do this a lot, so you get used to this."

Someone must have punched me in the stomach. More? We have to do more? It’s not over.

"Besides, I haven’t had the chance to come yet. I gave you what you wanted. You owe me that much?"

(What I wanted? What I WANTED?)

"Now. Turn over."

"Please…" I whimper.

"You have to. Turn over."

My body feels like it’s made of lead. Every muscle resists. But I do what I’m told.

(Like a slave. Like a dog.)

Skip doesn’t notice how I struggle to get on all fours for him. As soon as I’m in the right position he rips down my pants. His growl of lust cuts through my bones as he rams into me. My cry of pain echoes off the walls of the empty house.

"Take the pain," Skip moans. "C’mon, you can take it. Yeah, that’s it. Moan for me! Make some noise for me, Einstein."

His sentences turn to disconnected words that turn to nonsense. Nonsense all lost in his moans and my cries of pain.

(I can’t handle this… I can’t!)

My flesh tears under the assault. I can feel the warm blood coming from it, spilling within me.

(No! No more!)

It doesn’t stop him. Nothing stops him. He keeps on, his moans growing louder, the pain never ending.

(Push it away. Push it away…)

I may be screaming. I may be crying.

(Go away. Go away…)

I don’t know. I just don’t want to know anymore.

(Can’t feel it.)

I don’t want to know.

(Can’t feel it. I’m not here. I can’t feel a thing. The pain is gone. The hurt is gone. It’s gone. Gone.)

I don’t feel a thing.

~*~*~

Sometime after Skip did stop, but I don’t remember when. My only clear memory is of after.

I was still bleeding after we were finished. Skip took me into the bathroom and lay me on the closed toilet seat. My face flushed red as I felt the warm, wet rag inside me. I wanted to crawl away. The humiliation was almost too much. My teeth ground together as I told myself that I could handle it. At least it wasn’t as bad as the sex.

Despite his cruel attentions the bleeding didn’t stop. Skip was patient at first, but as our time ran out Skip’s patience did the same.

"Damn it!" he snorted at one point. "Just how much can a person bleed?"

The string of swears and groans of frustration continued as he tried to stop it. I said nothing, but I was getting worried myself. Aunt May would be picking me up any minute. I couldn’t go home like this.

Unfortunately, my fears were realized and our time ran out. Skip pushed the rag into my anus and pulled up my pants.

"Just keep that in there until the bleeding stops. Be sure not to let anyone see it. Remember, Einstein, this experiment was our little secret. Don’t tell anyone, all right?"

I shook my head. "No. Never."

He smiled and slapped my rear. "Good."

I heard a knock at the door. Skip and I checked over my clothes for any traces of blood or ejaculant. When we found none, we left the bathroom and answered the door.

Aunt May’s warm smile greeted us as Skip opened it.

"Hello boys," she said. "Did you have a good time."

"Oh yeah, great." Skip nodded, clasping my shoulder a little too tightly in the process. 

"We had lots of fun, Mrs. Parker. I’m really sad its over."

"Well, it’s nice to hear you say that. I wish I could let you boys play for longer, but unfortunately we’re going out to eat tonight."

I sighed as Aunt May took my hand and gently pulled me away. "Come along, Peter. See you later, Steven."

"Good-bye, Mrs. Parker," waved Skip. "See you next time, Einstein."

"Next time?" I thought. A fresh jolt of pain from the rag cut through me. "Next time?"  
I nodded a good-bye as Aunt May walked me to the car. I sat down in the front seat slowly, taking care not to move the rag.

"That Steven is a nice boy. Isn’t he, Peter?" Aunt May asked as the car began to roll down the street.

"Yes… very nice." I said. At least, that’s what I thought I said. I was staring at my reflection in my side mirror.

It was strange. How could I feel so different, yet look exactly the same?

~*~*~

I don’t remember anything of the night out except that I ate little and spoke even less. Whenever Aunt May and Uncle Ben asked me if anything was wrong, I simply forced a smile.

"No, I’m fine. I’m just thinking," I said as I squirmed on my seat from the throbbing pain.

Not that moving helped much, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. My mind was a helpless muddle of confusion. Of hurt.

Of shame.

The meal ended. Aunt May worried about my lack of appetite, but I just shrugged and said I wasn’t hungry.

Uncle Ben drove us home. When we arrived I trudged to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I dropped my pants and underpants on the white-tile floor. A shudder ran through my body as I pulled out the rag.

I sighed with relief when I saw the blood had dried. My rear was still incredibly sore, but I was grateful for small favors.

With stiff movements I pulled back on my clothes and placed the rag into the sink. I worked on it for hours, rinsing it and scrubbing it with soap until the water became a dark pink abyss. Every few minutes I checked the rag, praying that this time the stains would finally be gone.

But nothing seemed to work. I’d gotten rid of most of the blood itself, but a large stain remained on the rag.

Now what was I going to do? I couldn’t just throw it out. Aunt May or Uncle Ben might find it in the trash. I had to hide it somewhere. Making sure to be both quick and quiet, I raced to my room.

However, I was in such a rush I forgot the loose board. My body flew about a foot and landed on the carpet with a thud.

It didn’t hurt that much, really, but in that moment all of the pain came back to me. I just lost it. Throaty sobs racked me as I pressed my knees to my chest.

"I didn’t want to do it," I cried. "I didn’t! But I was too scared to say ‘no.’ I didn’t want to do it, I swear!"

I let out another sob as hot tears stung my eyes. "I didn’t want to…"

(But you did. Didn’t you?)

I sniffled and gripped my legs tighter. "But I…"

(You didn’t have to let him do that to you, but you did. You didn’t say ‘no.’ You didn’t try to fight back. You just laid there like a corpse and let him do whatever he wanted.)

"No!" I whispered. "No."

(Yes, you let him.)

"I didn’t enjoy a minute… I didn’t want any of it…"

(None of that matters. You consented. It’s your fault!)

"No!"

(You gave yourself away. You ruined yourself!)

"No. No!"

(You did. You think anyone will want you now? You think anyone will want someone who ‘lost it’ to a guy? You really screwed up, Peter. This isn’t going to go away. You really blew it. And now everyone is going to hate you.)

I tried to think of something to say, but I could only cry.

It was true. It was all true. I didn’t refuse. I didn’t fight back. Everything he did to me was my fault.

All my fault.

~*~*~

I felt like I was dead.

Not very surprising, for in the days that followed, I didn’t really live. I just went through the motions of life. I woke up. I ate. I went to school. But I felt nothing as I did so. Nothing seemed to matter.

My self-esteem was never good, but in those days I hit an all-time low. I was depressed all the time and utterly hated myself. I thought I was an evil, horrible person. If anyone found out what I had done, they would hate me.

When I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself I spent my time hiding. I took alternate routes home to avoid Skip and stopped going to the library. I rarely talked to anyone, even my aunt and uncle. My schoolwork suffered. Most of my time was spent in my room, sitting on my bed, reading the words in my books but not paying attention to the story.

I don’t remember doing it often, but once in awhile I must have watched television. The only reason I know this is because a few days after the incident, the movie I watched by myself that night was on again. But this time when I saw the hero, I felt sick. I remembered my time with Skip and wondered how I could have ever wanted to do such a thing?  
Disgust. It became my whole life. My desires… my own body sickened me. I wanted a way out, and had even considered more than once when I glanced at a pair of scissors or a kitchen knife.

Of course, I snuffed those thoughts out in the instance I formed them, but my life was becoming unbearable. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew something had to get better. Something had to improve.

I couldn’t continue to be this way.

~*~*~

A week later when I opened the door to my house, I heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"-Really do think there’s something wrong with him. Do you think we should see a specialist?"

My Uncle Ben groaned as I moved near the kitchen door to listen in. "May, you get worried every time that boy has a hiccup. We’re not seeing a specialist."

"But the way he’s acting…"

"He’s at that age, dear. I’m sure whatever’s bothering him will clear up before we know it."

"Ben, he’s hardly spoken in the last few days. And he eats less. And he’s so sullen…"

"It’s called ‘puberty.’ Look, if this behavior had been going on for a month that would be one thing, but-"

I nearly jumped in surprise when the doorbell rang.

"I’ll get that, honey."

I heard the scrape of the chair across the floor and Uncle Ben walked into the hallway. His blue eyes widened in surprise when he saw me. "Peter? I didn’t hear you come in."

The doorbell rang again. Uncle Ben decided my presence was something to be dealt with later. He opened the door.

"Well hey there, Steven. Looking for Peter?"

My body froze as Skip nodded and glanced at me.

"Hey, Einstein. Is something wrong?"

Obviously I hadn’t been able to hide my fear. I was about to speak when Aunt May came in.

"Oh, Steven. Hello, dear. We haven’t seen you in awhile."

"Yeah, I haven’t been able to catch up with Pete, so I dropped by. Think we could hang out here?"

"Why certain-"

"No!" I exclaimed, catching my aunt and uncle off guard.

Skip blinked. "No?"

"I’m very busy," I said quickly. "Yeah, I have like a million things to do-"

"Peter!" my uncle scolded as he glared at me.

"-In fact I was in the middle of something right now." I raced to the door and swung it open. "I’m sorry, just… just come back later."

I didn’t look at Skip’s face. He paused a moment. "Well, okay."

At last, he left. I let out a huge sigh as I closed the door.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben didn’t share my relief.

"Peter, why did you do that?" asked Uncle Ben. "He’s your friend. Would you like it if he brushed you off like that?"

"I’m disappointed in you too, Peter. It was very nice of Steven to come looking for you. How could you be so rude to him?"

"I… I can’t explain," I stammered as I walked backwards towards the stairs. "I-I… I just don’t want to see him anymore."

Aunt May shot a worried look at my uncle. He nodded solemnly.

"Peter?" asked Uncle Ben. "Does this have anything to do with the way you’ve been acting?"

"I… I can’t say…" I made a bolt for the stairs, but only got halfway up when Aunt May spoke again.

"Peter, wait! Did something happen?"

My knuckles turned white as I grasped the banister. "I… I…"

"Something did, didn’t it?"

"Uncle Ben, I… I’ll tell you later. Please…"

"No, Peter. Now."

Aunt May reached up and took my hand. "Peter, if anything has happened to you we must know. Please. Come to the living room and tell us what’s wrong."

I bit my lip nervously, but gave in. Aunt May continued to hold my hand as I walked down the stairs. She and Uncle Ben led me to the living room. He sat in his favorite easy chair while my aunt sat with me on the couch.

Uncle Ben spoke first. "Now. What happened?"

A sick sensation was growing in my stomach. What would they think when they learned this? What would they do?

"I… I didn’t want to do it, but… well… well…"

"It’s okay, Peter," said Aunt May. "Go on."

"Well. Skip… he… I’m sorry but he… he… I’m really sorry… I… He…" I stopped. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t get the words out.

"Say it," I thought. "Just say it and be done with it."

"Peter?" asked Uncle Ben. "Tell us. What did he do to you?"

I took a deep breath. And finally…

"He touched me."

I looked at the two of them. My aunt seemed worried and my uncle thoughtful. Both of them seemed concerned and waited for what I would say next.

"He… We had sex. I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to but…." A loud sob escaped my mouth. "I’m sorry. I’m just really sorry."

The tears were welling under my eyes, I would have cried, had two thin, loving arms not wrapped around me.

"Aunt May…" I whispered.

"Thank you, Peter," said Uncle Ben. "I know that must have been hard for you to tell us."

Aunt May nodded as she held me tighter. "Yes, thank you."

"You…." I wiped my nose on my wrist. "You’re not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Uncle Ben walked over to the couch and sat next to us. "Why in the world would we be mad at you?"

"Peter, if we’re mad at anyone, its Steven. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"Your aunt is right. In fact, we’re going to do something about this."

"But what?" I asked.

"Well, Ben and I have to talk about that. In fact, we will now. In the meantime," she bent down and kissed my forehead. "I wouldn’t worry too much. We’ve seen how upset you’ve been because of this."

"Try to have fun today. I’m busy tonight, but tomorrow we can see the new monster movie. Does that sound good to you?"

"Um, I guess."

"And try to catch up on your studies."

"Okay."

Uncle Ben gave me a quick hug, and then he and Aunt May stepped into the kitchen. Uncle Ben told me what happened later.

~*~*~

As soon as my aunt and uncle sat down at the kitchen table, Aunt May began to cry. She remained strong through her conversation with me, but now-

"My God… this…" Aunt May wiped her eyes on her handkerchief. "I can’t believe this."

"I know," Uncle Ben nodded as he held her hand. "But-"

"Steven… of all people… how-how could anyone do such a thing?"

Uncle Ben hung his head. "I don’t know, dear. There’s just some terrible people in this world. It’s awful, though-"

"But why? And to Peter. How could Steven do that? He was Peter’s friend!"

My aunt continued to cry. In an effort to comfort her, Uncle Ben moved his chair closer and hugged her.

"Peter… our nephew… how? He’s only a boy…"

"Shhh," my uncle soothed. "I know, May. I know. But we can’t cry about it. Peter’s very scared right now. We have to remain strong for him."

Aunt May sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Yes. Yes, of course. You’re absolutely right." A sigh escaped her lips. "We… We should call Steven’s mother and tell her about this. We can’t have him doing this to Peter or anyone else again."

"I’ll do that. We’re also going to have to call the doctor at one point."

Aunt May flinched a bit. "Yes, of course. I… I hadn’t thought of that. Do… do you think he could be sick?"

My uncle shook his head. "I hope not. But we can’t afford to take any chances."

"Yes. Yes, we must be sure. Oh, Ben! How could I let this happen?"

"It’s not your fault, dear."

"I… I just wish… I wanted to protect him from this."

"We can’t be there all the time. You know that. The important thing is that we’re here now. And with our help he, and all of us, will get through this."

~*~*~

At the time I wouldn’t have believed that. I felt a sense of relief after telling my aunt and uncle, but it didn’t cure my depression entirely. I was still afraid of Skip. My low self-esteem wasn’t cured either and when Uncle Ben brought up the possibility of me contracting a STD, I got even worse. Like Aunt May, I hadn’t thought of that possibility. It now hung like a dark cloud over me.

Both of my guardians supported me and tried to make me feel better, but it was hard. The two of them were as scared as I was about my possible sickness and were usually at a loss to know what to say. They tried to make up for it in spoiling me, bless them, but all the wheatcakes or movies in the world didn’t make me feel comfortable about myself or going to school. I began to wonder. Would I ever feel good about myself again? And furthermore, how could I know if Skip would bother me again?

Aunt May, of all people, answered the latter question.

Skip came back three days after I sent him away. I took a longer route home that afternoon, and every muscle froze when I arrived at my home only to find him standing at the doorstep. He was about to go when the door opened. I ducked into the bushes as Skip smiled at my Aunt.

"Why hello, Mrs. Parker."

"Hello, Steven," she said slowly. My eyes widened in surprise. There was a cold undertone to her voice that I had never heard before.

Skip didn’t seem to notice. "Is Peter home yet?"

"No."

"Oh," Skip shrugged. "Well, can I come in and wait for-"

"No!" snapped Aunt May.

Skip was taken aback. "No? But Mrs. Parker-"

"You will not wait here for him, and you will not come here again. I thought my husband called your mother and explained that to both of you."

"Well, yeah, but… but… see, your husband got it wrong."

"Did he?" Aunt May frowned as she folded her arms.

"Yeah, see… uh, well your husband made it sound like I…" Skip forced a laugh. "Like I did something wrong. But I didn’t, really."

"Is that so?" she said. "Well then please explain to me how forcing a little boy to have sex with you was the right thing to do?"

"Forced?" Skip shook his head and gave another fake laugh. "No, no. It wasn’t like that at all. See, um, see, the whole thing was Peter’s idea. He was the one who asked me to do it, kind of like education, y’know. Like one of those experiments he does all the time…"

My aunt’s eyes turned dark as she frowned. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Huh?"

"My nephew cried when he told us what you did to him, Steven. He hasn’t been the same ever since you hurt him and it shows in everything he does-"

"I didn’t hurt him!" Skip cried a bit too loudly.

Aunt May stepped forward. She was about a half a foot shorter than Skip, but he stepped back in fear. "‘Didn’t hurt him?’ Peter told Dr. Bromwell that he was bleeding afterward, Steven. How is that not hurting him?"

"I… I… N-Now come on, it was only an accident."

"You sexually abused a minor, Steven. If that’s an accident, you’d better have a good explanation for it."

"I didn’t!" Skip shouted desperately. "I didn’t abuse him. He came on to me. He asked me. Come on, I-I’d never do anything like that. You know me-"

"No. I thought I knew you, but you lied to me. And not only did you lie to me, but you also violated my nephew. You violated me and my family. But I won’t stand for your lies anymore!" Aunt May stepped back into the house and began to close the door. "Go home, Steven. Go home and don’t come back. Because if I see you here again, or hear from Peter that you’ve been bothering him, I will call the police. Or better yet, I’ll send my husband after you. And trust me, Steven, he would not be as hospitable as I have been to you. He would give you what you deserve!"

The door slammed shut. Skip stared at the door for a minute, then walked back on the path to the house, and down the street.

That was the last time I saw him.

I ran into the house and through the kitchen. I could feel my heart melt as my aunt wrapped me in her arms.

I never loved her as much as I did in that moment. There were many times in the past when I found her constant fussing and worrying annoying, but now I understood it was not because she was a paranoid worrier, but because she truly cared about me.

"Don’t worry, Peter," she said. "That coward will never bother us again."

It was true. I knew it. He’d have to be crazy to think he could ever beat my Aunt May.

~*~*~

The next day found me in the hospital waiting room with Uncle Ben. I sighed as I flipped once again through the magazines. I was at the age where the regular magazines were boring and the kid’s stuff was corny, so there was pretty much nothing for me to read. Uncle Ben wasn’t saying anything to me either, opting instead to watch television (which was something really dull like the weather channel). It wasn’t very surprising. Both of us were too nervous about the upcoming tests to say anything.

I put down another year-old "People" magazine and admitted defeat. Oh well, it wasn’t like I could really be comfortable. Just… any distraction would have been welcome. God, the waiting was horrible. When would it be time-?

"Mr. Parker?"

My uncle looked up at the nurse. "Yes?"

"Dr. Bromwell will see your nephew now."

My uncle held my hand as the nurse led us down the brightly lit, white-tiled hallway to the outpatient department. From there we entered a small room where Dr. Bromwell was waiting for me, along with a 40-something, black-haired man in a lab coat and goatee who I did not recognize.

"Hello Mr. Parker, Peter."

"Hello Dr. Bromwell," said Uncle Ben.

"How have you two been? Nervous, I assume?"

"Yeah," I said.

Dr. Bromwell nodded. "Well, we can’t tell anything until we begin the tests." He motioned to the man next to him. "This is Chris. He works in the lab and he’ll be drawing your blood today."

"Hello, Peter," smiled Chris. "I’ll be taking two tests today. One for syphilis and one for HIV. You signed the consent form for the HIV test, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Just sit in the chair over there. You’ll feel a little prick, but don’t worry. It won’t hurt too much as long as you stand still."

I sat down in the chair. Chris tied an elastic band around my bicep ("This keeps the blood in your arm from circulating back and makes it easier to draw"), then pressed the needle into a vein on the underside of my elbow.

"Will there be any other tests after this?" asked Uncle Ben.

"Yes," nodded Dr. Bromwell. "Nurse Dickens will be doing a smear test for gonorrhea."

"What’s a smear test?"

He told me.

"Oh no…"

"Do you think you can handle it?"

I groaned. "I… I guess I have to."

Uncle Ben placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear as Chris placed in the second needle. "I’m proud of you, Peter. You’re very brave."

I didn’t feel that way, but I was glad he said so.

~*~*~

The smear was as painful as I expected, but thankfully the nurse made sure it was over quickly. Well, you take the good where you can get it, I guess.

Not long after I was back in the waiting room. I sighed. The wait for the print out was agonizing.

Uncle Ben entered the room shortly after I did, carrying in with him a cookie and a cup of coffee from the hospital café.

"Here you go killer," he said as he handed me the cookie.

"Thanks," I took a bite of the cookie. "Heh. Kinda like when I was little, huh Uncle Ben? I go to the doctors and you give me a treat for being good?"

He laughed and nodded. "I had to, Pete. It used to take an army to get you to go for a check-up."

"I know, I… I used to be so scared of the doctor’s..."

I waited for Uncle Ben to answer, but he just stared at me. "You’re scared now, aren’t you?"

I nodded. Anyone could see that.

"What are you thinking, exactly?"

"Gee, I… I dunno. I…" Another bite. "There’s just so many things…"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don’t know. It’s… Well, you know I just…." I let out a groan of frustration. "How could I mess up like this?"

Uncle Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. "Peter, you didn’t mess up on anything."

I shook my head. "Yes. Yes, I did. This… I didn’t want this to happen."

"Well, of course not Peter. None of us did."

"Then… then why did it? I… If only I’d done something different. How could I have let him do that to me? I should left but I was too scared!" My hands shook as I continued to talk. I was losing it again. "And-And for some reason I guess I just thought I… I… I didn’t want to lose my friend but… but-but… but…"

"Peter, shhh!" said my uncle as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You don’t have to explain anything."

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. "But I feel like I could have stopped him somehow."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. You’re the victim here, Peter. Steven is nearly an adult. He should have known better."

"But didn’t I know better?"

"What do you mean?"

"I… I know more about…" I gulped. "About sex than you think I do, Uncle Ben. I’ve…" My voice lowered to a whisper. "Touched myself before. And they told us all about this kind of thing in health class. When I was in third grade they used to hand out pamphlets on what to do if someone was touching you and… and if I knew about that I-"

"I’m sure you were too scared to think about anything like that at the moment."

"I guess. But I still wish I did something. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to be here, worrying if I’m going to be sick…"

"Peter," Uncle Ben interrupted. "You have to stop beating yourself up about that. The past doesn’t matter as much as what you can do now."

I sighed as I pushed my glasses up on my nose. "What can I do now, though? I can’t take back anything I did. Anything HE did." I began to speak much faster. "I’m probably sick because of this and it’s a clear bet that after what he did with me I’m never going to have se-"

I stopped. My heart was racing. I said too much. Way too much.

Uncle Ben seemed more confused than shocked. "You shouldn’t be thinking about those kinds of things now. Are the kids at school talking about it a lot?"

"Uh-uh. Some of the guys said they’ve even done it."

"You believed them?"

I shrugged. "I don’t know."

"Hmmm," he nodded. "Well, actually, from the stories I’ve heard, some of them may be telling the truth. Although I’m really sad to hear that. In my opinion, twelve is way too young. I know that’s the age when boys start to think about sex, but there’s really a big difference between knowing about sex and being ready for it."

"When are you ready for it?" I asked.

Uncle Ben took a long sip of his coffee. "Well, I can’t really answer that question for you. There’s a lot that comes into play. Personally, and your aunt agrees with me on this, I think you should wait until you’re married to have sex, but its your choice in the end. I want you to be sure. You understand, right?"

"Yeah, I know. But the thing is I… well, after anyone finds out what happened to me will anyone-"

"Like you?"

I nodded.

"Peter, I truly couldn’t imagine anyone being anything but sympathetic. And if they weren’t, I can’t figure out what you’d be doing with her, anyway."

To my surprise, I heard myself laugh. My uncle’s smile couldn’t have been wider.

"I missed that sound."

"Me too."

With a gesture that couldn’t have been more loving, my uncle patted me on the back and gave me a hug.

"No matter what happens to you, you’re still the same person you have always been. I want you to remember that. No matter what, you are Peter Parker, and I’ll always love you for it."

I squeezed him tighter. "Okay. Thank you, Uncle Ben."

"No problem, killer."

We hugged for about a second or two more. Then Dr. Bromwell called us into the hall. Uncle Ben held my hand as Dr. Bromwell looked over the papers in front of him.

"I have the results of all your tests."

"And?" my uncle asked.

A smile crossed the old doctor’s face. "All negative. You’re very lucky."

The relief I felt in that moment was nearly indescribable. I think I almost laughed or gasped with joy. I don’t really remember. But I do remember that Uncle Ben hugged me almost immediately after, and that it was one of the few times I ever saw him cry.

~*~*~

I won’t say that day marked the end of my problems, but it brought my life pretty much back to normal. Assured about my health and the knowledge that I’d never see Skip again, I became happier. There were times when I remembered the abuse, but I determined to put those memories behind me.

I did too, for the most part. Though as time went on and I grew older and more mature, I would read in magazines and books about other people who were abused like I was. It was a real comfort to me. While I knew that other kids were (unfortunately) abused before, the articles helped me realize that they not only went through abuses which were just as bad (and sometimes even worse) than mine, but felt the same way about the abuse. The same feelings I had: thinking that it was my fault, that I could have done something to stop it, that because I got an erection I consented, and that nobody would love me or desire me after the abuse, were feelings that other people had too.

There was another thing I noticed. Some of the survivors who had been abused by the people of the same sex also had the belief that their abuse was what it meant to be gay. I realized that I had that perception as well. I remembered how I felt about that actor before and after my abuse, and once again I wondered if I could be homo or bisexual.

I thought about it, yes, but it’s not an easy thing to admit. Plus, when I found out that information, I had previously been in a relationship with Betty Brant and was dating Gwen Stacy. I loved her truly and deeply (and still do). In a way, I felt that because I had such a beautiful relationship, and loved Gwen in every way possible, it wasn’t necessary to think about if I was bisexual. If I was, so what? I was in love with a woman, and to everyone around me, that made me straight. It wasn’t something I had to deal with.

At least, that’s what I thought.

When the Green Goblin killed Gwen I was devastated. She really felt like the one for me. I thought-knew I would marry her. She’d done so much for me, and I often feel I didn’t show it enough.

I came to Harry’s bedside that night looking for information about his father, but ended up finding something that soothed me far more than revenge ever could. I’ve thought about that night a lot. What made me throw away one of my biggest fears in such a short time?  
I would never say I just did it just "because he was there." When I came onto him it was because I did feel that I loved him, and I could tell from the way he was acting that he felt the same way about me. I… I don’t know. There are some moments in life where you can’t really explain why you do things, but for better or worse, you do them anyway because in that moment, they make perfect sense.

But I can’t explain why I did it. Desperation, I think. I just needed something-anything to keep my mind off of my hatred and grief. Harry gave that to me, but he gave me something else as well.

Skip made me believe that his abuse was what it meant to be gay. However, my time with Harry proved him all wrong. Every touch, every word Harry said to me, felt like a comfort, not an enemy. The body may have been similar, but that’s where the similarities ended.

He gave me love and more than that. He gave me a chance to break through my fear. If Harry weren’t my best friend, weren’t the only person other than Gwen and Aunt May who I knew and cared for more anyone, it never would have happened. He made it happen.

I can’t thank him enough for that.

~*~*~

So here I am, the scared 12-year-old boy now a 21-year-old superhero. I think I’ve come a long way, for better and for worse, and my journey is far from over. Now that Harry and I are lovers, Peter Parker is going to have to face some new challenges in life as well as Spider-Man. I don’t know if I’ll overcome them all, but I’m sure as heck going to try!

And I take comfort in the fact that, finally, I have broken free of a ghost that has haunted me for many years. Now I know who I am.

And best of all, I’m proud of it.

The End.


End file.
